Ambedkar loosened his tie, took off his suit jacket and wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead with an already drenched handkerchief.
“This heat, is stifling me. I need some fresh air,” he said, as he stepped out in to the verandah..
Nestled amongst the tall, tropical trees and overlooking the Arabian Sea, Jinnah’s Malabar Hill mansion was magnificent. A distinctive semi circular balcony lined by spacious residential wings on either side, set atop a series of large arches gave it grandeur. The exquisite Italian floors , the walnut wood panelling and luxurious furniture gave it an imperial elegance.
In the aftermath of Gandhi’s shocking assassination, Jinnah, Nehru, Azad, Patel and Ambedkar had been deliberating the future of the country for the better part of the day with not much to show for it. Leaning against the railing, Ambedkar turned towards the large living room to watch the others continue their hopeless and repetitive debate.
“We all mourn the death of Mr. Gandhi, but nothing has changed,” Jinnah insisted.
“How can you say that?” Nehru exclaimed, “There has been a seismic shift in the country. The violence has stopped. The zeitgeist demands Hindu Muslim unity. This is how the people want to honor Bapu’s life and legacy.”
“They will get over it, once reality sets in,” Jinnah replied waving his hand dismissively.
Azad, sitting quietly in a corner, looked up at Jinnah and shook his head.
“The reality is that once the British leave, Muslims will be relegated to second class citizens under the hegemony of Hindi Majoritarianism. Have you not read Sawarkar?” Jinnah continued.
“The Congress is not the Hindu Mahasabah,” Patel responded coldly.
“No, they are not. At least the Hindu nationalists have the courage to be honest. The Congress has always been duplicitous. I am not sure whether it is naivety that blinds them or cold, calculated appeasement politics,” Jinnah replied, looking directly at Azad.
Leaning forward towards Jinnah, and barely holding back his emotions, Azad said, “I for one am not prepared for a moment to give up my right to treat the whole of India as my domain and share in the shaping of its political and economic life. To me it seems a sure sign of cowardice to give up what is my patrimony and content myself with a mere fragment of it.”
Nehru, walked towards Azad and placed his hand on his shoulder. Then turning towards Jinnah, he asked, “What would it take to convince you against partition?”
“My demands have never changed since the Lahore declaration, equal representation for Muslims in the government, in the army and in all civil institutions,” Jinnah replied.
“How is that justifiable, Jinnah saab? Muslim’s don’t constitute 50% of the population” Patel shouted.
“And so again, we are back where we started. A Hindu India, and a Muslim Pakistan,” Jinnah said, shrugging his shoulders.
Ambedkar turned around to look out at the beautiful landscape surrounding the property. The tall Ashoka trees lining the long, winding driveway swayed in the afternoon breeze. The drivers, in their bright white uniforms played cards in a shaded area under a giant banyan tree. The chowkidaar sat listlessly on his chair by the entrance, twirling his lathi. A gardener bent on all fours tended to a patch of rose bushes.
Suddenly, Ambedkar turned and with a spring in his step, stormed back into the room.
“Mr. Jinnah has a legitimate concern that a Central Government will be dominated by a Hindu majority and regardless of what the Congress leaders promise, there is no assurance that sometime in the future the majority won’t assert its authority. Partition seems like a reasonable solution for Punjab and Sindh and the Frontier provinces. Maybe Eastern Bengal. But like the Maulana has said, what about the millions of Musalmans spread in other parts of the country? Surely migrating every Muslim to Pakistan is untenable. And even the limited migration that partition will necessitate will result in untold violence with millions of people displaced on either side of the border. Further, can religion truly bind a country with severe sectarian differences. A Muslim from Punjab and Bengal have less in common than a Punjabi Muslim and a Punjabi Brahman. They eat the same food, they speak the same language, they work in the same farms. The territorial disputes between the two nations will cause as much instability, if not more, than the simmering communal tensions we have now. History shows that there are two ways for a major nation to deal with a minor. Either it completely assimilates the minor, by having the majority dominate the language, cultural and religious identity of the nation, or allow the minor nation to have its own independent, sovereign and autonomous status. Mr. Jinnah fears the former and strongly advocates for the latter. But what if we could do both. Provincial governments independently elected and ruled, held together by a loose federation at the center with limited legislative powers, but responsible for national defense and common fiscal policies. A model that’s closer to the American system rather than the British parliamentary one. Unlike, America though, where Madison and Hamilton argued for a strong federal center, we are not at war with the British Empire, or any country trying to annihilate us. We are at war with ourselves. Peace cannot be thrust down by an untrusted center, but must be advocated and earned at the local level. The Muslim League can run Punjab and Sindh and the Frontier provinces. The Marxists can run Bengal. And the Mahasabha can develop its political arm and compete for elections in Bombay or Poona or wherever it feels its message will garner support. Let the people decide. Locally. I am by no means suggesting that this will solve all our problems, but it could at least setup a framework for an alternative to partition. Mr. Jinnah could lead this Federation as the very first President of India. I am sure, Mr. Nehru will have no objection in fulfilling Gandhiji’s dream of a United India. “